


Something's Gotta Give

by magicspills



Series: The Adventures of Icarus Pitch [2]
Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Ace icarus aye, Gen, Simon is a good dad, Snowbaz dads are goofs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-15 23:44:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14800206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicspills/pseuds/magicspills
Summary: Icarus is the type of kid to spend his days watching tv shows about the supernatural. He doesn't see himself in a relationship, he's perfectly happy being alone with his movies and fanfiction. But Simon Snow, his dad, seems to think otherwise.





	Something's Gotta Give

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to @BasicBathsheba for the push to make this a series! Icarus is too precious to let go,
> 
> Another note: In the story you'll see that Icarus uses the term ace when he's aromantic, but that's because he uses it like a blanket term for people who might not know what it is, and to simply avoid going into detail about himself. Hope that makes sense :-)

“She looks sweet, doesn’t she?”

“She’s alright, I guess.”

“Oi, Nate, how about her, she wearing the same band shirt as you, Panic something, talk to her.”

“Dad, her boyfriend is like, right there.” 

“That woman over there, she goes to the PTA meetings, she has a daughter, same age, see where I’m going with this?”

“Dad, that’s Sophia Bunce. My Godmother’s daughter.”

“My bad. Hey, Penelope!”

—

The hospital is not the best place to pick up girls, especially when Dad is sitting in a bed with his hand wrapped in a bandage and an icepack pressed against his forehead. It serves him right for trying to juggle hot pans while also cutting up carrots. Father is sitting in a chair, far away from Dad and his bloody bandage.

“Honestly, Snow, 21 years and you still haven’t learned a damn thing. Never grab a roasted chicken while handling sharp objects.” Father has his hand pressed subtly against his nose as he chews out Dad, but it’s hard to take him seriously when he sounds all nasally.

“I get it, Baz, I’m a numpty,” Dad is rolling his eyes like he’s a kid and he smiles. “I guess you can call this, a recipe for disaster, am I right?”

16 years, and his dad jokes are worse than ever.

I roll my eyes and try to distract myself with my headphones and a game on my phone, I don’t get far because a pillow collides with my face. The phone drops from my hand and I pull my earbud from out of my ear, only to see Dad sitting there with a weird grin on his face.

“Nate, guess what?,”

Just wait for it.

“What?”

He lowers his voice and smiles, “I just saw a girl go into the room across from us. Your age.”

I can’t take back the loud, aggravating groan after it leaves my lips.

By now Father has his stupid eyebrow raised and gives me a questioning look. Dad is looking at me like I have something on my face.

“What was that about?” Father asks. 

I shrug, my Dad shrugs more than me—says it’s his way of communicating without saying anything—and pick my phone from off the ground.

“I’m just not ready for a girlfriend, okay? So can we just drop it with trying to hook me up with every girl we see?

I didn’t mean to snap, I just don’t want to keep talking about this. I can’t wait for summer to be over so I can go back to Watford and pretend that my dad is being completely crazy about my love life.

I just don’t want a girlfriend. Or anyone for that matter. But they don’t need to know, not yet, anyway.

They don’t say anything after that, I take that as my cue to put my headphones on and try to drown them out while we wait for the doctor to come back.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dad and Father exchange a look.

I ignore it.

—

“Really? So there isn’t someone you fancy?” Sophia looks up from her pasta she’s been working on and give me her full attention.

I shrug and continue to pick at the scone my Dad always talks about. I ate a few when I first got to Watford in the first year, but I’m in sixth year and I’ve grown sick of them.

I don’t understand how Dad can eat 10 of these a day. Father and I have a bet. I say he’ll get sick of them by 50, he says Dad will still be eating them when he’s on his deathbed.

“I just never felt that way towards anyone.”

“Not even Isabelle Hail? Didn’t you go the dance with her?”

“Only because she practically forced me. I was going to say no but everyone was watching.” Isabelle is supposed to be the most smartest girl at Watford, but she spends more time online shopping, using her illegal mobile than actually studying.

It’s not like I don’t think about being in a relationship. I’m human, I have emotions (somewhere) I can feel love, and I know the feeling of being in love. Or at least I think I do, fanfiction helps a lot in that department.

I've educated myself to know that I do not desire a relationship with anyone, whether it be romantic or sexual. I'm simply comfortable with my family, and the little friends I have. 

The thought of personally being in a relationship doesn’t appeal to me as it would for other people. I don’t need a girl, or a boy to make me happy. I don’t need someone to rely on, I got my parents for that, and I’m perfectly fine being alone. 

I don’t like much people. Sophia is the only person I can tolerate without sneering away in disgust. First year, she practically forced her way into my life. I was sitting in the dining hall, reading one evening and she sat right down beside me and would not leave even though I told her to go away.

“We’re going to best friends.” She said as if it were obvious.

“And why is that?” I asked, not looking up from my book.

“Because our parents were best friends and it’s only right we become friends. Like our parents.”

“I’m nothing like my dads.” I said and I expected her to get upset and walk away, finally leaving me alone with Bilbo and Gandalf and the Thorin Company. But she didn’t move and just pulled her own copy of The Hobbit.

“That’s fine too.”

And she never left, no matter how many times I told her I don’t need a friend, she continued to follow and never leave my side until finally, I gave in. I let her tag along, she would sit beside in classes and help me out whenever I needed it. I never asked her for help, she just knew. I guess that’s one of the things I like about Sophia Bunce. She just knows.

“So how are you going to tell them?” She asked, I shrugged again.

This is the first time I ever had the nerve to say it out loud. It’s not like I’m ashamed of my aromantic-ness, I just didn’t think it was something important. It doesn’t define who I am. 

“I think you should tell them when we head back home for Christmas next week.” She says after I don’t say anything.

“And tell them what?” I scoff, pushing my black curls that have fallen over my eye. “That their son, their only son, is not interested in relationship? Yeah, they’d love to hear that on Christmas break.” I say with a roll of my eyes.

“It was just a suggestion. No need to be an ass about it.” She says with a grin and nudges my shoulder with her small fist.

That’s another thing I like about Soph, she understands I can be a twat, but she just smiles. She says ‘it’s your personality, I can’t change that.’ And she’s probably right. 

“I just don’t want them to look at me differently,” I say. “All their life, they’ve known me as their pride and joy, how do you think they’ll react when they find out their son is a mess.”

“Nate,” she says and places a hand on my shoulder. “Your parents are by far, a more bigger mess than you. I mean, they aren’t even married and from what my mum says they were even worse than when they were younger. She says your Father even pushed your Dad down the stairs once, so I think you’re safe in the disaster department.”

The Stairs story is by far my favourite story of my parents. Dad used to tell me that story every night before I went to bed, and it always came with my dads reenacting the scene. It was 10x more funny with a visual aide. 

I let out a sigh and nod. “Fine, when we go back home for Christmas break, I’ll tell them.” I say. “But that means I’m not buying them a present, this will be my gift to them.”

And if they don’t like it, then I may actually consider jumping in the moat with the merewolves.

—

By the time I get home for break, Father and Dad have already set up the Christmas tree and decorations. I would have helped but I hate manual labor, and bright colors.

“Nate! You’re home early!” Dad wraps me in a hug and Father follows, ruffling my hair.

“I flew.” I joke, and that’s cue for Father to laugh. It’s been our joke ever since Dad had his absurd wings and tail removed when I was 7. I remember I cried because they reminded me of Elliot from Pete’s Dragon. I think Father was upset too, but he would never admit to that.

Dad just rolls his eyes and helps carry my bags into my bedroom. We live in a three room apartment that isn’t too big and isn’t cramped as hell. 

“I would have picked you up from the station but your father thinks you’re old enough on your own to get back home.”

Bless Father, because if I had to endure a half an hour drive with Dad, I don’t think I would survive. He’d pester me and ask more questions with answers I don’t have.

Father and Dad are talking in the kitchen when I go to my bedroom and unpack. Tonight, I think, I’ll tell them tonight. Might as well rip the bandage off as quickly as possible. 

Truth be told, I'd rather rip off a thousand bandages than come out to my parents. 

Dinner at our house consists of potatoes being thrown across the room, inappropriate jokes and talks about magic and what phases can be used for spells.

“I don’t think “Chris, is that a weed?” is good idea for a spell, Snow,” Father says and shoves a potato in his mouth. I catch a glimpse of his fangs before he covers his mouth with his hand. “What would you even use it for?”

“Catching drug dealers, of course!” Dad says with a smile, like it was obvious.

“Or it turns anything into pot. Think about it, Snow.” Father says and Dad crosses his arms over his chest, pouting.

This is a near 40 year old man, and he still acts like a child.

“Okay,” Dad says, “how about “Two bros chillin’ in a hot tub 5 feet apart ‘cause they’re not gay”?”

“You're trying too hard, Snow.”

And while my Father tells my Dad that vine is dead and they are completely unethical for magic, I let myself pluck up nerve.

Now. Do it now, what can go wrong?

Everything. Everything can go wrong. In the back of my mind there's this small voice that's telling me that if I do this, there's a chance that my parents won't accept me for who I am. I know that's not true, they did adopt me after all, but maybe it's because I'm not like other boys, I'm not tough or, strong, I'm just me. 

But sometimes I feel like “me” isn't good enough. My parents are two of the most admirable people in the World Of Mages.The chosen one, and the Pitch heir. 

And I'm their son with a cracks along the edges.

Father and Dad are getting heated. They look like they’re about to start arguing, but before Father can say anything. I speak up.

Life sucks and we all fail no matter what... so you might as well embrace it and fail properly

“I’m ace.”

And the room goes dead silent.

I'm ace… To some extent. But they don't need to know that. Not yet anyway. I'm aromantic, but imagine telling my dad that.  
“I love aero bars too!” He'd say and won't even pay attention to what I'm saying.

Dad and Father stop talking and they’re attention is turned on me. I feel my face heat up and I wish I knew the spell that can turn back time, because now I regret ever saying anything.

“You’re what?” Dad says. Father has his blasted eyebrow raise and I take in a deep breath.

“Dad, Father,” I say, my voice shaking slightly. “I’m asexual. Kind of. I'm more aromantic, I guess?” Fuck, my hands are shaking like crazy.

They take a long, hard look at each other and for a split moment I actually consider running out the door and never looking back. I can’t believe I just did this, and on the day before Christmas Eve nonetheless. Crowley, I really am a shitty kid.

Until the darndest thing happens. 

Father lets a laugh, while Dad groans and pulls his wallet out and hands Father a couple of bills.

“I knew it! Pay the fuck up, Snow.”

Dad is grumbling and pouts and I feel myself unable to speak, until—

“You bet money on this?!” I said, my voice louder than expected. “On your own child?”

“Well you see, son,” Father says, giggling, “I wanted to see if my suspicions were correct and your Dad thought the default was you being straight. I wanted to prove him wrong.”

“Why didn’t you just say anything?”

“You were brooding so much, we didn’t want to disturb you.” Dad said.

“And how long has this been going on?”

Dad is counting his fingers and muttering to himself. “When you were 13 and spent more time drawing cartoons on your desktop and watching Teen Wolf than chasing girls.”

“Three years?!” I say, dumbfounded. How can they bet money on their own child for three fucking years.

“Well in our defense, you didn’t say anything. Even when your Dad was pestering you for girlfriend.” Father says and shrugs.

“So all this time,” I say, turning my head towards Dad, “all the constant nagging about me getting a girlfriend was all because you wanted to win some silly bet?”

“You should have said something earlier, kid,” Dad is smiling sheepishly. “Then maybe the bet wouldn’t have lasted this long.”

By now I’m a red-faced idiot suffering from the embarrassment that is my dads. I groan and put my head on the table, hiding. I should have just said something earlier. Maybe then I wouldn’t be upset like I am right now. God, I’m an idiot.

I feel two hand on both of my shoulders and I look up and see my Father and Dad looking at me with a soft smile. They both kneel down on opposite sides of me and wrap me in a hug.

“All jokes aside,” Father says, rubbing my back, “we still love you, no matter what.”

I sigh and let myself enjoy this moment, sitting there at the dinner table, letting my dads hug me before I pull away from their embrace and cross my arms over my chest.

“I better get more presents now that I know you two placed a bet on your damn child.”


End file.
